


Worth a Thousand Words

by WorryinglyInnocent



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: A Monthly Rumbelling, F/M, Golden Lace, Masturbation, NSFW, PWP, Sexting, public/semi public sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 11:40:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9489470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WorryinglyInnocent/pseuds/WorryinglyInnocent
Summary: Golden Lace. Mr Gold has decided to have his lunch in the diner rather than getting it to go. Lacey French has decided to go without panties today. Things escalate from there.Written for the Monthly Rumbelling prompt: "Public/Semi-Public sex"





	

**Rated:** NC-17

**Prompt:** “Public/Semi-Public Sex”

**Summary:**  Golden Lace. Mr Gold has decided to have his lunch in the diner rather than getting it to go. Lacey French has decided to go without panties today. Things escalate from there.

**Word Count:** 2395

**====**

**Worth a Thousand Words**

Gold is not quite sure what keeps him in Granny’s diner, sitting at the counter contemplating his half-eaten hamburger. Normally he never stays any longer in the place than he has to, placing his orders to go and vanishing from the proprietress’s glares. It’s probably something to do with the fact Lacey French is sitting in a corner booth, and she keeps giving him sultry stares whenever he catches her gaze out of the corner of his eye, smirking and running her tongue over her too-red lips.

The relationship between them is hard to define. They flirt outrageously. Well, Lacey flirts and Gold responds in a way that he hopes will encourage her to keep lavishing her attention on an undeserving old man. He doesn’t really think that the word ‘flirting’ can really be applied to a man desperately attempting to keep a woman at least twenty years his junior in his life. But yes, they flirt outrageously if it can be called that. She’s constantly in and out of his shop, leaning on the counter with a provocative sway of her hips and a glitter in her eyes beneath the previous evening’s mascara, and sometimes a skirt so short he can see hot pink panties beneath it. She’ll just hang around annoying him (he tells her) and enthralling him (he never admits to her) in equal measure. But they’ve never gone any further than that, never acted upon the sexual tension that hangs heavy in the air whenever they’re in a room together, like it’s doing now.

Presently his phone buzzes with the arrival of a message, and he glances over at Lacey, who waggles her fingertips at him in a demure little wave before going back to her chicken parmigiana. She’s the only one who texts him, and he’s still trying to figure out how she got his number in the first place. Still, he fishes the phone out of his pocket and opens the message.

_Good afternoon, Mr G._

He replies warily: _Good afternoon, Miss French._

_Would you like to know a secret?_

He glances over at Lacey again, but she’s looking at her phone, twirling spaghetti around her fork with no intention of eating it.

_Go on then._

He has to wait a moment for the response, and he almost falls out of his seat when he gets it.

_I’m not wearing any panties._

Gold blinks at the message and looks over at Lacey again. She meets his eyes this time, looking completely innocent, but with a challenge in her eyes. Gold smirks. He’ll rise to that challenge.

_I don’t believe you_ , he types. _Prove it._

He pushes his now-cold burger to the side and sets his phone on the counter in its place, waiting for the reply. He hears the faint click of a phone camera from the corner, and a moment later a picture message arrives.

A picture taken up Lacey’s tiny skirt, her legs parted a little to show nothing between them but pale skin and the shadow of hidden promise right where he wants a clear view.

Gold gulps, and another message arrives.

_Believe me now, Mr G?_

He turns and looks over his shoulder, but Lacey isn’t looking at him. She’s smirking at her chicken parm, waiting for his response.  Very well. If she wants to keep challenging him, then he’ll keep rising to it. This is the little game they’ve always played so well together, both of them stubborn and neither willing to give an inch. Lacey likes to tease, likes to think she’s got one-up on him, and perhaps if he teases back, she’ll keep coming back for more in an attempt to best him once again.

He responds.

_I’m not entirely convinced. I think I need to see more._

He settles back on his stool and waits for her response.

“Are you going to finish that?” Mrs Lucas’s clipped voice breaks into his world and reminds him that there are more than just himself and Lacey in the diner. He waves the half-eaten plate away dismissively and Mrs Lucas takes it back into the kitchen, muttering about a waste of good food.

Another picture has arrived. Lacey’s legs are a little further apart and giving him a clear view of her smooth pink pussy.

A message follows soon after.

_Maybe you want to see a little bit more._

Gold glances over his shoulder at her, still toying with her meal, unoccupied hand below the level of the table.

He replies.

_How could I refuse an offer like that?_

He has to wait a moment for the next picture, but those few minutes of apprehension are worth it when it arrives. Lacey’s fingers, chipped red polish on her long nails, holding her nether lips open and toying with her clit. Gold’s very glad that he’s not holding any cutlery at this point because he would surely have dropped it and caused a commotion.

_I’m having such a lot of fun over here_ , the next message from the corner booth reads. _It would be criminal not to share._

Gold looks over his shoulder again. Lacey’s not looking at him, instead concentrating very hard on her plate, which she’s very obviously not eating from, the hand holding her fork is white-knuckled whilst the other is still moving below the table. She’s biting the inside of her cheek, but Gold can see the moment when her eyes flutter closed and the tension leaves her posture. He blinks. Did she really just finger herself to orgasm in the middle of the diner? Well, in the corner of the diner technically, but nonetheless…

He turns back to his coffee hastily, and another message arrives.

This one is a video.

Gold feels heat suffuse his face as he watches Lacey pump two fingers inside; he can see the slick wetness of her arousal on her hand, and…

That’s it. He can’t take any more, or his head’s going to explode, and probably his genitals along with it. Throwing a couple of bills down on the counter to cover his meal and tip, Gold makes to leave the diner, taking care to make sure his coat is folded over his arm in front of him to hide his indiscretion.

“Leaving so soon, Mr Gold?” Lacey calls from her booth. “Are you sure?”

If he had half a brain and if that half a brain wasn’t in his pants then he’d just ignore her and leave, making his way back to the pawn shop where he can take care of his distraction in private. Unfortunately, Lacey’s voice has arrested his movement and against his better wishes, he turns to her.

“Were you perhaps hoping that I would join you, Miss French?” he asks as nonchalantly as he can considering what’s been going on for the past few minutes, knowing that she’s been watching him squirm.

Lacey just shrugs carelessly.

“I’d hate to think that I’d scared you off.” Her voice is barely more than a raspy purr, and she leans forward over her table, showing off a deep sliver of cleavage and resting her chin on her hand demurely, at odds with her smouldering eyes. Her other hand is still under the table, and Gold tries not to think about what it’s doing there.

“Oh, I don’t think you’re as wild a tiger as you make yourself out to be, Miss French.”

“Don’t you now?” Lacey brings her other hand up and begins to lick her fingers delicately, and the sight is almost enough to undo him there and then. Lacey sees the obvious gulp of his Adam’s apple and she slides out of her seat, coming over and straightening his tie with still-sticky fingers.

“Do you maybe want to see my claws, Mr Gold?” she asks. “I can how you just how sharp I can be.”

She rakes her fingers down his chest until she reaches the barrier of his folded arms holding his coat like armour, and she pauses for all of an agonising moment before worming her hand down further to touch the tented front of his trousers.

“I think a demonstration might be in order,” she whispers in his ear, before biting down on the lobe and tugging. “Because there’s definitely something that you want from me, isn’t there, Mr Gold?”

Gold doesn’t trust himself to speak, but he gives a measured nod. Any hope he had of maintaining an ounce of control over the situation is rapidly fading as Lacey continues to rub his crotch, completely uncaring of the fact they’re in the middle of the diner.

A quick glance around shows them that they are still alone in there, and Granny has her back to them, talking to the cook at the pass. Then the door opens, and it’s clear that the lunch rush is about to begin.

Lacey takes him by the hand and pulls him towards the rest room, locking the door behind them as she bundles him inside.

“So, Mr Gold,” she purrs, leaning against the sink and spreading her legs, skirt riding up her thighs. “Seen something you’d like to try?”

Gold rests his cane against the sink, because he’s already established that he’s going to hell and if he can go there having fucked Lacey French, then that’ll be something to remember. He places a hand on each of her thighs, stroking her perfect pale skin and pushing the hem up further, but then Lacey’s hands on his stop him from exposing her.

“Come now Mr Gold, fair is fair. I’ve already made a delicious display of myself for you. Won’t you return the favour?”

Gold is embarrassed by the shake in his hands as he undoes his belt and fly, slowly pushing his trousers and boxers down to free his painfully hard cock. Lacey smirks but doesn’t move, the pull at the corner of her mouth goading him onwards, and he knows that nothing further will happen until he’s matched her. He takes himself in hand, grip firm and sadly familiar, pumping his length from root to tip and pulling back his foreskin. He wouldn’t like to admit the number of times he’s done this in the back room once she’s left his shop, daydreaming about pulling those hot pink panties down over her ass and burying himself between her legs.

There are no pink panties today, however, as she hitches her skirt up around her waist and beckons him in closer.

“Do you want to fuck me, Mr Gold?” she asks, hooking her arms around his neck and rubbing herself up against his throbbing erection. “I think you’ve wanted to fuck me for a long time. Almost as long as I’ve wanted to fuck you.”

There’s a moment in which a vaguely conscious part of Gold’s brain processes the information that Lacey wants him as much as he wants her, and another part thinks that maybe they ought to do dinner first and then progress to something vaguely like a bed, but the rest of his brain is too aroused to listen, and when Lacey’s lips crush against his in a fierce clash of teeth and tongues, all other notions fly out of his mind and he thinks that a sly fuck in a restroom as the culmination of so much flirting is somewhat characteristic for them.

Lacey’s hands are on his ass, squeezing his cheeks and pulling him in close to her hot, damp pussy; one leg snakes around his hips and she grinds against him.

“Do you want to fuck me, Mr Gold?” she asks again, breathlessly.

“God yes,” he replies, a growl in her ear.

“Condom in my bra,” she pants. “Right side.”

Gold slips his hand into her shirt and cups her right breast through the lace, feeling the scratch of the foil packet beneath, and Lacey reaches in to pluck it out. Gold rubs her nipple and she gives a groan of approval before deftly tearing the wrapper and rolling the condom on him.

“Come on, Mr Gold,” she purrs, her hands returning to his buttocks and kneading there. “Fuck me.”

Gold thrusts in slowly, savouring every inch of her tight heat pulling him in; the pain from his bad ankle and the annoying stab of Lacey’s stiletto heel in his thigh urging him on are enough to keep him grounded and stop him coming there and then. Once he’s in to the hilt, Lacey rolls her hips, inner muscles squeezing, and Gold closes his eyes with a groan. God, he’s only dreamed of this, but she’s so much better in reality.

“Harder,” Lacey hisses, her grip on his ass unrelenting and pulling him deeper and deeper. Gold digs his fingers into her hips for purchase as their rhythm gets faster and faster, and the mirror on the wall behind them begins to rattle. There is no doubt that anyone in the diner beyond would be able to tell exactly what’s going on in here. He’s so close, already so keyed up just from the pictures, and he fumbles for Lacey’s clit, determined not to let her down here. One of her hands grabs his and moves it to where she wants it, and with a firm press of his thumb against the swollen bud, she screams.

If the diner by some miracle didn’t know what was going on, then they definitely do now, but Gold isn’t really thinking about that as Lacey’s tight walls flutter around his cock and he follows her over the edge with a grunt.

Lacey grins at him.

“You don’t disappoint, Mr Gold,” she pants.

“Neither do you, Miss French.”

They’re both still catching their breath as Gold pulls out and gets rid of the condom. Lacey tugs her skirt down and rearranges her shirt into some semblance of decency before turning to demurely check her lipstick in the mirror as Gold refastens his belt.

“You know, Mr Gold, we should really do this again sometime,” she says nonchalantly.

“Miss French, I am in complete agreement.”

They get more than one look of mingled disgust and amazement as they come out of the restroom, Lacey returning to her corner booth and Gold leaving the diner in the direction of the pawn shop, but Gold, allowing himself a smirk of Lacey’s calibre, really couldn’t care less.

 

 


End file.
